Someone like you
by BlueSterling
Summary: This is the story of a man's love for a stubborn elf, and the difficulties and dangers caused by it. Will they ever come toghether, or are there just too many hinders in their future, keeping them from the love they both need and want? Legolas is healing in Rivendell, but his sacrifice had caused someone great anguish.
1. Chapter 1: Fangorn forest

- Story by BlueSterling -

Elvish and thoughts in dialogues are in _Italics._  
Dialogue in 'these,'  
Explanation of words in Sindarin at the bottom of the page.

I do not own any of the characters; they solely (and rightly) belong to Tolkien. The title is a line in Aviciis song "You make me", that can be found on YouTube.

The wind rushed through the dark green tree tops, howling as it grew in strength. The leaves danced in the friction. Some were tossed roughly from the branches, falling like dry rain on to the bottom on Fangorn forest. The sun was setting in the West, retreating from over the forest to shine its light on Forlindon and the Blue Mountains of Harlindon, the rays kissing the forest good night as they painted it in rosy colors. One leaf fell, whirling and tossing, landing before the feet of three figures. One of them, the dwarf, crushed the dry leaf loudly beneath his leather shoe, breaking a twig in the process, causing him to start and fall ungracefully on to the soft ground of the woods. Ha had lost his grip on the axe, and it fell and landed on one of the few stones in their path. The noise of metal against rock pierced the eerie tranquility of the forest. The human and the elf scowled at the oblivious dwarf. They were accustomed to his lack of grace, as he was the less stealthy and silent of the group, but the making of unnecessary noise meant attracting strange dangers of the forest, which would be highly inconvenient.

The dwarf mumbled a short apology from behind of his large, bushy beard as he stood up and brushed some leaves of the back of his tunic. He was dressed in a heavy brown cotton shirt, covered by a thick tunic made of grey Dwarven wool, dark and massive like the dwarf himself. A weighty grey cloak covered his back and the battle axe he had picked up. The man looked at the dwarf with a strained smile on his face, but his eyes told of his exasperation. He was known as Strider; a natural leader, wise, calm and collected. He wore black linen leggings and shirt under his dark blue tunic, and his wavy, dark brown hair was muddied and hung so low as to reach his broad shoulders. The stubble on his handsome face made him look older, and the shadows under his eyes told of the tiring travel the Fellowship had been through. Though he was tired and wary, his grey eyes shone with the need to continue safely through the dangerous forest.

'Be careful Gimli, lest you want to wake the many dwellers of this forest,' Strider whispered to the dwarf, his thin mouth still smiling. Hearing this comment, the elf threw his head back and laughed softly. The topic of the dwarf's clumsiness was one of his favorites. Strider looked at his Elven friend, and mused on how much he differed from the dwarf. They were like night and day; the dwarf was a brute, short and fat. He wasn't graceful or agile, but he was strong, kind hearted and brave. The elf was quiet, light and elegant, yet he beheld a strength and accuracy in battle that rivaled all warriors'. There was another trait of his that was never left unnoticed; his excruciating beauty. Elves were known for their beauty, it was said that no man had managed not to be enticed by them. But this one held a beauty greater than all others', Strider was sure of it. Even though he was dressed in travelling gear, this trait of his could not be hid away. The pale skin that was left uncovered by the dark green shirt and tunic shone with a slight glow in the darkness of the forest. The hood of his brown cloak had slid down from his head, revealing hair that couldn't be anything other than tresses of spun gold. The gold hung down past his lean shoulders to right over his hips. Curved, pointy ears were visible, though covered by the braids in his hair. His face was glowing, adorned by rosy cheeks and a full mouth that blossomed into a smile. The mirth was still visible in his eyes, blue as the purest river pools, when the elf glanced at Strider.

'_An ngell nîn_, Legolas,' the man pleaded, 'just to be sure.'

Legolas nodded and turned away. Picking up speed in a few steps, he jumped into a nearby tree and climbed, jumping from branch to branch. The man and the dwarf only heard the faint rustling of the leaves as he sped up and vanished into the distance. Gimli trotted tiredly behind Strider. He was wheezing because of exhaustion and Striders all too quick paces.

'I meant no harm,' he said apologetically, 'but as you know, I am no dainty elf that barely makes a noise,' he added. The bitterness in his voice was evident; it held no pleasant feeling towards the elf that had left them to scout the woods for anything that might have awakened because of Gimli's loud mishap. Sitting down, Gimli stretched his stout legs and groaned with displeasure. Strider halted, but did not sit down while waiting for Legolas' return. The dwarf rummaged his many pockets until he found what he was looking for; a leather flask. He opened it and drank greedily. They had not been able to pause often enough to his need and liking_. As everyone knows, dwarfs are not made for long ventures; they are made for mining and battle, _he scoffed. The man stood next to him, politely refusing the flask Gimli offered to him. His mind was too clouded with worry to be quenching thirst or even resting. He knew that they would soon have to stop to rest, but he was begrudgingly unwilling to end the day's journey now, not being out of the forest. _Soon darkness will descend, _he thought to himself, peering up at the small, open blotches of the evening sky that was visible between the crowns of the trees.

A while later Legolas landed soundlessly on the soft ground behind the two. He straightened himself gracefully, and looked from the dwarf to the man. The chilling wind blew golden strands of hair into his face, framing its softness beautifully. His brows were furrowed, but his chin was lifted in the proud and determined manor that always graced him.

'Nothing threatens us yes, but... I saw a clearing,' he quietly stated. Strider stared intently at the elf, 'was it not safe?' Legolas lifted his head and breathed in the cool smell of dry leaves before he answered,

'I am not sure. The center of the clearing was covered in a structure of twelve statues, _gondren_. I do not know of them, and they trouble me.'

Strider glanced at Legolas. All though concern was voiced and he trusted his dearest friend, he decided to push forward into the clearing. They needed to proceed their journey and perhaps the stone structures of the clearing for give some shelter from the cold and clammy atmosphere of the woods.

'Then let us go. Dwelling here will not make our return to Rivendell any more swift,' he said. Gimli grunted in agreement, and rose from the ground with great difficulty.

_- They made to the clearing, lit a fire and sat down to eat. -_

Their camp glowed in the orange light of the dying fire. The sun had set, being replaced by a full moon, showering the hungry company in a powerful silvery light. The clearing did not let them breath more freely. It was difficult not to notice as they broke away from the confinement of the forest. The air here was hotter, a suffocating warmth mixed with a foul smell of something stale and decaying. The company's fire helped lessening its bitterness. Legolas leaned down on his cape, taking in the view of the starry skies. Soon, he looked through his backpack and brought out something wrapped in light cotton. He unpacked it carefully, dividing it into three pieces. He took the smallest piece for himself, and gave the large pieces to Gimli and Strider. Gimli wolfed it down hungrily.

'Thanks, elf, just the stuff to keep in shape,' he burped happily. Legolas smiled at him. The smile was small, but his eyes beamed with mischief.

'Barrel-shape,' he blurted, while taking a small bite out of his lembas corner piece. Strider snickered at the comment, and Gimli laughed merrily. He nudged the man next to him with his elbow,

'The twig has humor, eh?' Strider nodded to the dwarf as he swallowed the rest of his lembas piece. He leaned back with his pipe and his eyes lingered on Legolas' form. _The gentle smile, eyes hidden behind thick, dark lashes… If he just had smiled that way at me, I would die a happy man. _Strider froze. These thoughts had slipped into his mind before, but they were not welcome. _Musing on how he makes me feel will only make this worse_, he thought, _an attraction affecting me so much must be dangerous_. The dwarf looked at his two friends. The elf had lied down to sleep. His right arm was draped across his chest, his palm on his heart. His eyes were open, but glazed, and flickered with movement as he dreamt. The dwarf knew he was beautiful, men he was not attracted to him. Gimli's thoughts lie only with the inviting bosom of his Dwarven wife and his little son waiting for him at home. _But my immunity to his charms seems to have evaded Strider_, Gimli noticed, seeing how the man was looking at the elf. Striders eyes were filled with some kind of pain caused by something unrequited. They all soon fell asleep, Strider's tired head as close as possible to Legolas' elbow.

As the moon stood its highest on the black skies, something happened. The statues on the middle of the clearing began to move, just slightly. The stone grated as the statues came alive, dust falling off them and forming foggy clouds in the process. They were statues of men, women and children, bigger than any human. They were armed, their faces sculpted without emotion. As the company slept, the statues walked about and suddenly drew nearer. Legolas was the first to wake up as he heard the grinding of stone limbs. He quickly rose from his bedding and surveyed the scene.

'Strider! Gimli! To your feet, something is happening,' he yelled, picking up his bow, quiver and daggers. The company hurried as the statues came closer. One of them stopped a couple of feet away from them. It raised its stone sword at Legolas. He ducked swiftly as it came crashing down at him, surprised at the sudden violent action. The stone sword splintered at the contact with the rocky ground, and Legolas rolled away. He quickly jumped up, shooting arrows at the statue up close. The arrows splintered at contact, breaking into useless pieces. Panic crossed his eyes for a moment as he stabbed at the statues with two silver daggers. The Ranger soon followed suit as he leaped at the statues that were attacking Legolas, coming to his aid with his sword drawn. The dwarf followed closely behind Strider, picking up his axe and lashing out at the statues.

Legolas was grabbed and tossed by the statue of a large woman. He landed heavily on his shoulder and tumbled further, avoiding being stepped on by another statue. The statues towered over them. Gimli was the shortest of them all, but that didn't stop him from chopping away at the legs of his statues. Of all the weapons, his did the most damage. _Dwarven axes are made to chop stone, _he thought happily, _they are not useless like soft elven daggers or the Rangers steel sword._ The latter thought brought him pain, as his friends struggled to defend themselves. A statue hit Strider with a stone fist, targeting his abdomen. He bent over in pain and was caught off guard by a large stone hand grabbing him around his neck. It swung its sword at him, and he barely dodged it. The statue raised its hand to strike again; this time Strider was caught in its vice like grip, unable to fight or flee. As Legolas was evading stabs himself, he saw in the corner of his eyes what was happening to the man. Strider looked back at him as Legolas tried to slide between the open legs of a statue. In the progress, the statue stomped down on him. With a loud crack, the foot of the statue struck his hand. Legolas let out a high-pitched shriek, almost feral, as blood spluttered out of his crushed hand.

'Legolas!' Strider screamed at him, but the elf was hearing poorly. The blood was running out of him, clotting his ears and compromising his eyesight. His heart was beating quicker than normal, rushing the blood through his body and some out of his mangled hand. The only thing he saw was fog that closed in on him and a man watching him, screaming. The statue was about to thrust the stone sword into this man, which would be his certain death. Legolas summoned the last of his strength and ran towards Strider. In the last second he pushed him out of harms way, out of the statue's grip. At the same time, the dwarf was hurled into another statue's back, falling hurt to the ground after the painful hit. Strider saw all this, helpless as another statue had thrown him to the ground, grabbing him by his throat. His sword was shattered into several pieces, and could aid him no more. The cold, stone hands were pressing painfully down on his throat, choking him. The remains of Legolas' arrows were poking him in the back as he was suffocating, slowly slipping away into darkness.

The last thing he saw was the stone sword being pierced through Legolas' back, resurfacing through his abdomen. This time, the elf made no scream, no sound at all. His eyes were not closed, but glazed over with pain. His mouth was slightly open with blood slowly pouring out of the corner of his lips as he coughed. Strider tried to scream, but no voice could be heard. Gimli was on his feet again, frantically stabbing at the stone forms. The man reached for the lifeless elf, but touched nothing. The sounds of struggle and pain followed him as he slipped into darkness.

To be continued.

_An ngell nîn – _please

_Gondren_ – of stone


	2. Chapter 2: Arriving in Rivendell

- Story by BlueSterling -

Elvish in dialogues and thoughts are in _Italics._

Dialogue in 'these,'

Explanation of words in Sindarin at the bottom of the page.

I do not own any of the characters; they solely (and rightly) belong to Tolkien. The title is a line in Avicii's song "You make me", it can easily be found on YouTube.

Legolas tried to open his eyes, but they would not yield. All around him there was darkness and pain, nothing more.

_I am so tired… What is happening to me?_

He opened his mouth to say something, anything. His lips felt dry and chapped. The mouth straines when he tried to speak. No sound came out, his voice had faltered. He could feel a presence encircling him and moving under him, rocking his body from side to side. The smell of horse, sweat and leaves reached his nostrils. Pain seared through his stomach and the blood in his hand throbbed.

_It hurts so much..._

He felt eyes on him as he tried to speak again, the only sounds coming from him being muffled groans. The pain was overwhelming. Unconsciousness claimed him again and he floated in darkness.

- _In Rivendell –_

The feelings of necessity shook him, he had try again. Legolas tried to gather himself, to force himself to wake up. Yet again he failed in his attempts, and fell back into the he void, oblivious to his surroundings.

_Am I dead? _

_No, that cannot be… Had I been dead I would be walking the halls of Mandos, not floating in this awful darkness._

Suddenly he heard something. It was the sound of loud sobbing, piercing through the darkness, waking him. Legolas peered up slightly and winced.

_The light is so sharp!_

He struggled to open his eyes again. Three people surrounded him, looking at him with worried looks gracing their faces. They were bathed in fog, making it impossible for him to see who they were. He tried to focus his eyes as he turned towards where the sobbing came from. A broad red form.

_This must be Gimli_.

Gimli was sitting next to him by the bed, tears soaking his red beard. The sight was worrying.

_I have never seen my friend this distressed_.

Legolas furrowed his brows and bit his lower lip. He tried to stretch his hand out to touch Gimli's shoulder, wanting to reassure him of that whatever the ailment, everything was going to turn out just fine. His hand was quickly caught, but not by the dwarf. Staring into his eyes were the calming brown eyes of another elf. It was Haldir. He squeezed the smaller hand tightly between his own.

_He's awake! Ai, how tired he looks… So frail and broken, my poor Legolas._

'_Ci vêr, pen vain_?' he whispered, the words beaming with worry and joy for Legolas' awakening. He stared at him, searching for something reassuring in the wet, azure eyes.

Legolas met his gaze and nodded slowly. _What is this, how could we have reached Imiraldis already?_

The dwarf let out a relieved sigh and patted Haldir on the back.

'He is awake, I knew it! Had it not been for you and Gandalf, he would have perished,' he exclaimed happily, grinning through his tears back and forth between Legolas and Haldir.

Legolas looked confusedly at all the faces wishing him well. He turned towards the figure that had yet to say anything to him. The form was leaning on the back of a braided wooden chair with his arms folded sternly across his chest. His face was greyish and unwashed with blue shadows coloring he skin underneath his eyes. They gleamed in the candlelight, and Legolas could see that the whites were colored by a red hue. He focused his eyes on the quiet figure and realised that this was the tired form of Strider. The man did not look directly at him, he chose to stare unaffectedly at the elf's forehead instead. The brows were furrowed in a look of worry. As soon as he felt the elf's questioning gaze on him, he turned to look at him directly. They locked eyes, causing a jolt to pass through the man. The contact filled him with unwanted feelings of anguish.

'_Sevig vaur nên_?' he asked, averting his eyes.

Legolas looked at him and nodded again. The man poured him a glass of water from the clear pitcher that stood on the dark nightstand next to his sickbed. The elf reached out with his right hand, his left still being held tightly by Haldir, but started when it touched the cool glass. The pressure of the glass in his broken hand caused him to hiss loudly, losing his grip so that the glass fell and broke into several translucent pieces, spilling water on Strider's feet.

'Do not move, pen vain! In your battle, you were greatly harmed. Your hand is still broken, but healing. As is your stomach,' Haldir added, reprimanding him slightly for his accident.

Legolas looked down his right arm. _It is true, my hand hurts and is bandaged_. He lifted the blanket that covered his naked body and he raised his brows; the skin on his stomach was clean and fair except for a part of him that was marred by a fresh, bright pink scar. Its width was about the same as the width of his hand. Slight panic showed in his eyes as he touched the painful scar, bucking his hips at the sudden stinging sensation. Beads of sweat formed on the pale forehead. Haldir leaned over him to kiss it, wanting to take away whatever pain he could. Strider looked away and walked silently out of the room. The door creaked as he closed it behind him, leaving a puzzled an exhausted Legolas staring after him.

'Rest now, friend, and heal. In a week there will be a great breakfast, and a wonderful feast for Lord Elrond's announcements,' Gimli smiled as he exited. Haldir stayed behind.

'Legolas, _davo nestad anech_,' he offered. Legolas smiled in agreement and closed his eyes as he leaned back on his pillow, letting Haldir's cool hands rest on the fresh scar of his abdomen. Soon he felt himself drift into a deep, healing sleep.

- _Outside of Legolas' room – _

'Stop it Strider, do not blame yourself!'

'As if I could stop this… He almost gave his life up for me. That is something I can not live with,' the man sneered at Gimli.

'Why does it bother you so, friend? His life was not lost, he is here with us, healing under the caring hands of Haldir,' he asked.

'But it does bother me. It bothers me greatly that he would risk something so precious to me, all for something that is not worthy of saving,'

'That is enough! Do not berate him for wanting to see you alive. I, and you yourself, would gladly do the same for him or any other friend of ours,' he scoffed at the Ranger, turning his back on him. The man's words had upset him, but not enough to miss the remark about how precious the elf was to the man.

The dwarf walked away on that note, leaving Strider to stare at the wooden doors of Legolas' room in anger. The room was on the right side of the corridor, while the left side of the corridor was open to the lake beneath the fort. The only thing between the man and the steep cliffs was a marble fence, connected to a series of arches held up by light grey pillars. He leaned all his weight on the fence, breathing in the cool autumn air. The surroundings were completely quiet except for the soft chanting that could be heard from the room behind him. _Haldir is obviously going to spend the night there, healing my... healing Legolas._ Strider shook himself.

_The truth is_, he admitted to himself, _that my heart aches so when I see him hurt and damaged. It aches even more knowing that he is in this state because of me. The last thing I would ever want is to be the reason for the pained expression on his face._ He sighed, knowing how pathetic it was that he adored his friend so. After all, his friend was a Prince. He was to inherit rule over Mirkwood after his father Thranduil, and he was immortal. _And I… I am nothing._ With this thought he walked down the corridor to the rooms of his foster brothers Elrohir and Elladan, intending to talk through the night to rid himself of the uncomfortable feelings he was having towards the Mirkwood prince.

A couple of days passed, and Legolas was feeling better. One night, after eating the fruits and breads Gimli had brought him in his company, the elf excused himself. All the time he had spent in his sick-bed he had longed for the ranges and the wonderful feeling of a strung bow in his hands. He needed to test his skill with the bow and arrows once again, and the thought of a walk through the beautiful nature of the gardens proved all to tempting. He parted with Gimli outside of his room, thanking his friend for the lovely evening-meal.

Legolas walked briskly to the ranges, picking his pace up as he entered the gardens. The cool breeze warmed his even cooler skin. The short walk had drained him of powers and beads of salty sweat gathered below his hairline, covering his forehead in a wet sheen. Elves do not get tired easily, but being locked in his room for so long and the recent battle made him weaker than usual. Tonight the grounds seem abandoned. It was expected as no one in their right mind would practice in the dimming lights of the evening. A smile graced his mouth as he positioned himself on the mark a couple of feet from the mark.

_Perhaps I am not in my right mind at all_.

He steadied himself by placing his weight on his right leg, bending the knees of both legs slightly. He held the bow in his left hand and placed the arrow to the string with his right. While stringing it he noticed how much his strength had diminished. His arms shook in the tension of the bow.

_Steady, steady…_

Legolas breathed in and aimed for the black spot in the center of the target. He exhaled sharply and released the bow at the same moment. The string recoiled and hit his hand. The impact was painful, and the elf whimpered quietly. He checked his bandages and saw a small blot of blood that had begun to seep through them. Concentrating this much caused him pain and it also dulled his senses. Instead of recooperating and giving up, he strung the bow a second time. His breathing was slower this time. As he was about to release the arrow, someone grabbed him by his wrist. Legolas released the arrow shakily and watched it whirl into the edge of the target.

'What is the meaning of this?' he asked angrily, whipping around to face rude person that had interrupted him.

'Legolas, I wish to speak with you,'

It was Strider. He was looking at Legolas with obvious anguish written on his face. The stubbles on his chin were longer and his hair was becoming more disheveled by each day he was alone, tormented by his thoughts. He slowly let go of the wrist to put his hands idly by his sides.

'Ai, you do now? Why, may I ask? I have not seen you since the day I woke,' Legolas answered coolly, turning away to study the poor shot, 'yet all others have been kind enough to visit…'

The words hit the Ranger's heart; their bitterness was evident, the elf seemed thoroughly scorned.

'Why should I have wished to see you? Would it have brought me joy to see your broken body?' he sneered back at him. The elf clutched at his heart. The words coming from his friend were malicious, provoking the anger in him.

_Did he not want to see me because of the wounds,_ he thought, _or has this weakness scarred me so in the eyes of the man? Am I no longer the strong friend the Ranger could count on?_

'Joy or no joy, Haldir has stayed with my both day and night, healing me. He was not disgusted by me as you obviously have. Gimli has stayed too, along with Mithrandir,' he bit out.

Haldir's name angered his the most. He had noticed the way he was always calling Legolas for the "fair one" and how he kissed his forehead. Strider's blood was boiling, and he ground his teeth trying to avoid exploding in rage. It did not work; he became blind to his own actions. He lunged at Legolas and caught him by his right wrist, squeezing it until he could see in his eyes how much pain he inflicted on him. The pain seared through the elf's body and he tugged forcefully at the hand, trying to free himself. Strider pulled him closer, looking straight down at the tormented elf.

'Aye, the word disgusted seems fitting. How could you throw yourself onto the sword of our enemy, knowing the blow was intended for me?  
Do you not know that I would have my life ended in an honorable way, by the sword of my enemy? Not being pushed aside like a weak coward, letting you give your life for my benefit,' he finished.

'So, it is this that troubles you… Cowardice,' Legolas was shaking as a fire lit in his eyes, a fire hotter than any man's and far more devastating.

'It is not cowardice, Strider. I would give my life for you, and you know this.  
I would die for you!' he screamed at him, loosing his ever so resilient composure. Though the man's heart was wrenched, it pushed the blood to pound louder and louder in his ears. He was overwhelmed with the urge to hurt him, to cause him as much pain as he felt at the elf's sacrifice.

'I will not have your life.' His voice was cold. The fire in Legolas' eyes flickered and burned out.

'Nor will I offer it to you,' he said looking down, forcefully shrugging off the man's hold on him. He walked towards the targets and yanked his arrows out, avoiding Striders glaring eyes. The tiring walk back to his room seemed to last an eternity, and weighed heavily on his heart.

Strider fell to his knees in the soft grass and ripped at the strands in exhasperation.

_Not like this, it was not supposed to end like this!_

Legolas pushed open the oak doors to his room. Entering it he noticed passingly that Haldir was sitting on his bed engulfed reading some parchment. Legolas sat down on the one braided wooden chair, too tired to acknowledge the reading elf and folded his arms over his head to hide his face. Haldir looked up at him worriedly as his small frame began to shake as he sobbed. The sobs were quiet, but the hurt exposed in them was nerve wrecking. Haldir rose from the bed and quickly took place behind him, placing his hands on Legolas' shoulders. The long, white hands stroked the hair out of the crying elf's face, his voice cooing softly, fingers occasionally drying his tears. Time passed, and the sobs came less often and less fiercely.

'Shh, _nimp pen_,' he whispered into Legolas' ear, 'shed no more tears. Tell me what happened.'

'I am so confused, Haldir,' and he truly was.

He and Strider had been the closest of friends since he offered his bow in help for the Fellowship. They had shared thoughts he was afraid to voice out loud, and he always offered the man arms to cry in when his task became too heavy to bear alone. Legolas was there for him, comforting him whenever he needed it, but the favor was unreturned. The elves do not open up to anybody easily; their trust was difficult to earn. Yet, he had given his heart and trust to the ranger.

_Did he not love me like I love him? Perhaps not… He must see my feelings towards him as too bold, too friendly to his liking. _

Legolas looked at his right hand. One of his braids had loosened and fell in front of his eyes. A leather band kept the bandages tightly wound around his hand and wrist. Blood was showing through the cotton bandages, coloring his hand and wrists with bright red spots. The sight was strangely welcoming; the pain was distracting him from his inner pain, which was worse than any burning in the flesh.

A loud sigh escaped him.

_Who would have thought that my utmost sacrifice would push him away from me…_

The feelings towards the ranger were confusing. He did not know if this was love, friendship or anything else. All he knew was that he ha thought them to belong together, and that the animosity between them was stabbing at his heart. It was his stubbornness that refused him to crawl back to the man to ask his forgiveness.

_But then again, why should I? Why should I apologize for doing everything in my power to save his life?_

Haldir's smile faltered a bit when he saw the elf's bloodied hand.

'If you do not wish to tell me, you may keep quiet, pen vain. You are entitled to,'

This woke Legolas from his musings. He felt that his behaviour made him look ungrateful. Haldir had been one of the soldiers of the border patrols coming to their aid when they had fought the stone statues in the clearing. Mithrandir had told him all about it some days ago. It seems that darkness is awakening once again, he had said to Legolas in their conversations during the time when elven servants replaced his bandages. It had been Mithrandir's light that froze the statues, stopping them from attacking the company further. The stone sword had still been embedded in Legolas when Haldir had run forth and crushed it. It was Haldir that carried Legolas on his horse all the way into Imiraldis, trying to heal him while riding, trying his best to bring him back from the darkness he had fallen into. He owed his life to this elf.

'_Goheno nin, _Haldir, sincerely. A storm is brewing in my heart and it has pulled my mind in as well,' he said as he let his hands fall into his lap. The touch to his hair felt good. He leaned into the cool hands while his anger eased out of his body every time he exhaled. The blood did not leave him completely, it seemed to throb louder in his hand than anywhere else. _  
_

'Let me lessen it. Give me one night with you to dull this pain,'

The offer surprised Legolas. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth. The seeking of intimacy as a comfort was not unusual in war and battle, especially among the elves. _Maybe… Maybe this will take my mind of him. I will not let myself hurt anymore because of this one man._

'_Sevin dhaw_, Legolas?' he whispered, breathing cool air in the pointed ear below him.

- To be continued -

___Ci vêr_ - Are you well

_Pen vain_ - Fair one

_Sevig vaur nên – _Would you like some water

_Davo nestad anech – _Let me heal you

_Nimp pen_ – Little/frail one

_Goheno nin_ - I apologize

_Sevin dhaw _– May I?

**Authors note**

Well, you can see where this is going!

_But_, I would very much like some feedback, praise and critique highly appreciated, before I go on with this story. I have never written any fiction before, and right now I feel as if I am writing it poorly or wrong, especially since English(_and Sindarin,_ haha) isn't my native language... (like, at all.) Beta-offers are also very much welcome!

And remember, reviews can totally change where this is going. I have a plan in my head, but all suggestions are welcome as they might be a lot better than what I have in mind for this.

So it is all up to you.

*wink wink*


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